Communications
by WhoNatural
Summary: Little experiment on how they could potentially bring Jo back. She wakes up in an alleyway with fragments of memories of heaven, and very little about her life. She remembers meeting a man named Winchester, who had a very important message,
1. Chapter 1

It was bright. Like, really bright. The kind you get woken up by the morning after too many whiskeys and hide under your pillow. That kind of bright.

Unlike those times though, she was outside, and she couldn't remember having any whiskeys. She couldn't remember anything but her own name - and a face. It was a girl's face, which was a little confusing, because she was pretty sure she wasn't the girlie type. This didn't feel like a sister, or a best friend either - not even a lover. Why did she keep seeing this face? And why did she feel dread when she pictured it?

Cold and weak, she dragged herself up enough to lean against the rough wall of this…was it an alley? And slumped her head into her hands. She was pretty sure she could hear traffic noise and people close by, and caught the odd shadow passing the opening to the street.

"We did it then. Saved 'em," she told herself, only realising that she couldn't exactly remember what she had been fighting, just that she was surprised that they had succeeded. But wait… who were 'they'?

Not entirely certain if it was the confusion or whatever had happened which was making her head hurt, she breathed slowly and deliberately. It didn't help. The world went black again.

Coming to on a cotton bed in a heated room had been a lot nicer than the first time. At least the strange ache in her side had dulled slightly. She guessed she was on some sort of pain meds, and whatever they were, they were doing their job. Turning over in her bed, she noticed an IV in her arm, but didn't have much time to register.

No, what caught her attention was the strange man striding into her room, beaming when he saw she was awake. The man rushed to her bedside, planting himself on the available chair and giving her shoulder a tight squeeze.

"Man, are you a sight for sore eyes," he mused. "Wanna explain any of this?"

"Y-you know who I am? Who are you? What are you doing here? Where _is_here?"

"Hey, take it easy, kid. You just woke up. Let's maybe not try to run before we can crawl, ok? Look, you were discovered collapsed in a alleyway in Carthage, Missouri by some bible-thumpers. Kind of ironic they're still worried about the Apocalypse when it came and went while they had their thumbs up their butts."

"Wait, Apocalypse? What are you talking about? And you still haven't answered my question - who the hell are you and why are you here?"

"Hold your horses, Jo, I'm your next of kin. Not by blood, exactly, but as close as you get in this business. You were just about able to tell a paramedic your name and I was the only idjit they could get hold of. Don't you remember me, kid? Bobby? Bobby Singer?"

One thing he had correct, her name was Jo alright. Jo Harvelle. She knew her name, date of birth, social security number and…that was it. She hadn't got the faintest idea of who this man was and how they knew each other. She wasn't entirely sure he wasn't nine kinds of crazy either, but he was the only lead she had to figuring out more about herself.

Sensing no recognition in her eyes, Bobby prodded more.

"Do you remember anything that happened to you, Jo? Like last time you were in Carthage? With your momma? And the Winchester boys? Do you even remember them?"

_Winchester. _The bolt of recollection hitched her breath. _He _was a Winchester. And he'd travelled to find her. He was older than she was, but still handsome. He had dark hair, graying at the temples, and a patriarchal air about him. Like he was _not_ to be defied. She remembered deep, sad, brown eyes…and a message. Yes. there was a message; and then she was violently thrust away from her place. Her place had been beautiful. It was serene and heavenly. It was.. _heaven._

_"_Uh..Mist- _Bobby_?", she asked, hands clasped together, thumbs fighting for a comfortable place on top of one another.

"Where have I been? I was gone a while, huh?_"_

Bobby took of his worn hat and dragged a calloused hand over his forehead and down to his eyes. He nodded like there was something he wanted her to know, but hated the thought of telling her.

"Was.. was I _dead, _Bobby?"

"Kid, like I said, baby steps. Get some more sleep. I called Sam and Dean. If you remember them, you'll know they're gonna have plenty of questions. You don't wanna be low on sleep for that."


	2. Chapter 2

**** I've been uploading this to my Tumblr account first, so if you're waiting for an update for a while, be sure to check .com for updates and news of when new chapters are up.****

**RECAP: Jo woke up in an alley-way with only the knowledge of her own name. She was taken to hospital and after meeting Bobby, certain memories have been triggered, including that of a man with an important message. Comments/reviews are always welcome!**

That night, Jo had dreams. They seemed to go from one extreme to the other. In some, she was back in her 'place'. There, she was just a kid, maybe five or six. She remembered waiting for someone, someone she always seemed to be waiting for, only to be lifted by strong arms and held in a safe embrace. In this place, she felt at home. Barely remembering the people she spent time with - just flashes now and then, never entire faces, she knew these people were her parents. The smell of her father's jacket, like cigarettes and gun metal. The gravelly quality of his voice. Her mom's shampoo, and how her hands were rough and worn, but her cheeks were silky smooth. It was bittersweet, because Jo started to piece together her situation. She knew her dad travelled a lot, and that her mom did her best to raise her alone and protect her, and if her suspicions were right - that she had been in heaven, did this mean they were dead too? Bobby had said he was her next of kin - was he all she had in the world? Was Joanna Beth the last Harvelle?

In her other dreams, things were dark. Impossibly dark. But more than the darkness of night or a room without windows; the entire world seemed a darker place. These dreams were less vivid. She remembered tears. She remembered the face of the young woman she feared. Bargaining. Sacrifice. She remembered pain. She remembered death. She didn't want to remember any more.

Bobby woke her gently from a pleasant reverie with some awkward prodding and unsure prompts. She could tell by the way he was with her that this wasn't a guy who spent much time with women. Or at least, not lately. He acted like she could break in half or break down, and he didn't want to be the cause of either. Shielding her gaze from the midday sun, she turned from the window to regard him. It wasn't like her to sleep this late. Well, she didn't think it was. She kept getting snippets of memories of the type of person she'd been, and Jo Harvelle was not lazy.

Suddenly aware of two figures standing in the doorway, she felt the urge to straighten up and try to tame her now unruly blonde waves. Realising it was a losing battle, she dropped her hands to her lap and waited for her visitors to enter. Why did she react like that? Was it another memory? Who cared what she looked like, she was in hospital. This is the one time you get to look like crap and nobody judges you for it. Although, these slivers of her past self coming back, so little and so sparse, were making her frustrated. She needed to find out more.

They were both handsome, serious types at a glance. She felt a pang of familiarity, she guessed resulting from last night's dreams. Bobby wouldn't have called them if they weren't friends of hers.

"You remember Sam and Dean, sweetheart?" Bobby asked, trying his best to sound soothing, but Jo just found it out of character for him.

"Um, I'm sorry guys. Things haven't quite come back to me yet. Winchester, right?" She was sure she'd met these two before, just no.. details.

"Yeah, Jo. I'm Sam, and this is Dean… we were pretty good friends before you, uh.. went away," the taller brother offered. Jo glanced back to his sibling who leaned a shoulder against the wall, hugging his own arms and staring at her like she'd disappear at any moment.

"I remember Winchester - the name, I mean. But not exactly you guys. I..I feel like there was three of you. Another Winchester. A guy. Sorry, am I rolling out the crazy here?"

A glance exchanged between the three of them told her this wasn't a comfortable subject. This only made her more curious.

"I'm right aren't I? Was it another brother? Older maybe? Uh, dark hair…"

"Father," Dean cut in.

"Sorry? He was your Dad? Huh. I remember him looking young. I can't really trust my memories though," she trailed off, feeling the tension of the situation concentrated right between her eyes. It almost felt like Dean's staring was exacerbating the fact.

"Are you okay, man? You're looking like I've really insulted you or something."

"Yeah, just wondering the sudden fascination with our dad, I mean, it's not like you were his biggest fan way back when. The _real_ Jo didn't want his name mentioned. It was easier for her to forget about him. I'm just wondering what your gameplan is."

"Sorry, gameplan? I just got here, mister, I don't have a gamepla-"

"Dean, Sam, can I talk to you outside for a second?" Bobby interjected, dragging both their larger frames out before waiting for an answer. They closed the door, but the mechanism failed to catch and it stayed ajar. Though it strained her, Jo could make out their muffled voices

"Dean, cool it. I told you on the phone, I did every test I could think of while she was out cold. Same, standard resurrection drill I did on you. It's pretty ridiculous that I have a routine in place for something like that, by the way."

Resurrection. So she had died. But she didn't miss the extra information - Dean had died too, and come back, just like her. She was pretty sure this wasn't normal. Or even heard of. How were they so blasé about this? About resurrection. She had thought maybe it was a near-death-experience, or maybe she'd been in a coma. but the way they were talking, it seemed like she'd been gone a while. months, at least. Had she died? Had she gone to heaven?

Heaven. Would she ever get back? She suddenly felt out of place. Homeless.

"Look Bobby, I believe you, but the fact is, Cas isn't exactly batting for our team anymore. Who could have done this?" Dean hissed.

"He's got a point, Bobby. Someone's messing with us and we can't take the chance that she might know who," Sam offered. She heard a light thud as Dean's fist hit the wall separating them. He grunted in exasperation.

"Any time one of us gets dragged back to earth, it's to inflict more pain and messed up crap on us. I hoped, and I was almost _sure_, that that ended with Sam and me. Then they drag Zombie Karen back to screw with you, and now Jo? Isn't she safe? Didn't she give up enough for us? I can handle someone messing with me, with Sam, even with you, but not her. Not her, Bobby. Not **_**her**_****.** "


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay in getting this to you guys, I've been pretty busy with work lately! I know, too many excuses. To be honest, I wasn't sure anyone was all that interested in this story until I got some amazing reviews, so please keep 'em coming, they're what's making me keep going with this! Oh, and I know it's slow paced for now, but I didn't think and amnesiac Jo out chasing monsters would be believable! As Jo recovers, the story will pick up pace, I promise!**

Jo heard the voices drawing closer to her room, so sat straighter in her bed, trying to look nonchalant as if she hadn't heard the conversation. But her mind was reeling. Trying to make sense of what she'd picked up, she was staring out the window when Dean entered once again, closely followed by Sam. Dean cleared his throat loudly, interrupting her train of thought in an instant. Though she couldn't recall anything about them, she sensed that this was how things were with them – side by side, supporting each other, figuring things out together.

"Hey," he said, making eye contact, but quickly averting his gaze when she returned it. Something intense about her stare seemed to put him on edge.

"Hey," she replied, searching his face for something familiar. How he'd reacted to the thought that she was the victim of some 'cosmic prank' had set her brain to work. He spoke as a protector, as someone who held himself accountable for her safety. Had they been more than friends?

She had to admit that he was attractive. Both brothers were, undeniably, but something more than looks drew her to Dean. With Sam, the earnest eyes and the soft voice portrayed someone who was empathetic, kind-hearted and truthful, and she had no reason to think he wasn't. He seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve for anyone to see. With his brother, there was mystery. What girl could resist someone handsome and mysterious? She sensed the surly demeanour was somewhat of a facade for Dean; that his true self was just as kind and sympathetic as Sam was, but how Dean got things done was to put it to the back of his character and use his tough exterior to his advantage. She guessed, though her ponderings, that she had unlocked another facet of her own personality.

Jo Harvelle liked mysteries. Better than that, she was damn good at them.

"Bobby not coming back?"

"He went to got coffee," Sam replied. "He hasn't had much sleep since you were found."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise he'd been here all that much." she told them. "I'm really okay though. The doc told me they were just keeping me in overnight for observation. They've concluded I was just exhausted and that's why I passed out. I guess that sounds about right."

Both men nodded, Dean turning to Sam for a few seconds which resulted in a sheepish exit by the younger Winchester.

"I forgot, I uh, have to go..out there," were his parting words, before closing the door behind him.

Dean stood with his hands buried in his pockets, watching the door for a few seconds after Sam had gone.

"You can sit down you know, you don't have to pace my room like an armed guard," she joked, getting little or no response from him. Finally, he sat down.

"So, uh, do you wanna make a guess at what's going on with me? 'Cause I'm all out of theories."

No response.

"You know, for a visitor, you're not really aiding my recovery. I mean, no grapes, no Hallmark card. If you were a candy-striper I'd have to have a serious talk with the nurses about you."

A smirk played on the corner of his lip. Jo felt utter achievement.

"Wow, he smiles! And here I was thinking Bobby was the fun one."

Full belly laugh this time. Adorable laughter lines formed at the corner of his eyes and he shook his head in amusement.

_Yep, definitely attracted to this one. _

"Hey, the day Bobby Singer makes _me_ look serious is game over for me. I'm done, dude," he chuckled, then cleared his throat. "It's really you, Jo, isn't it?"

"Apparently so, I mean I know that's my name. Who knew I was funny, too. I'm learning more all the time."

"Oh yeah? What else have you learned today, sweetheart?"

_Sweetheart. _The word was unwelcome. Jo was not anyone's 'sweetheart', their 'dollface' or a 'babe'. But somehow, coming from Dean, it wasn't so bad. Still, letting him away with it once could be once too many.

"I've learned that if you call me that name again you won't be able to say much else," she spat, with only a thin veneer of venom. In reality, she was enjoying making fun of him.

"Yeah, see, that's proof enough for me," he said, ruefully. "One thing I've learned in my life is that the right word at the right time can win or lose a battle for ya."

Jo frowned, wondering where he could possibly be going with this. He sensed her confusion and attempted to make things clearer.

"Like, uh.._Cristo_. Certain Latin combinations I prefer to leave to Sammy, 'no' to a being who wants access to parts of you you don't even wash in the shower... But when you're dealing with a Jo Harvelle who likes to be called 'sweetheart'," he paused, a small chuckle escaping his throat. "Man, then there's something really freaky going on."

Giving a half-smile, half-frown, Jo turned her attention back outside.

"You know I have no idea what you were just telling me, but I'll bet it has something to do with the other thing I learned today."

She turned to her hands resting on her lap, playing with the covers on her bed, wondering whether to say anything at all.

"I learned that I'm not the only person in this room to come back from the dead."

She saw him move uncomfortably in the seat, looking behind him, she guessed hoping for an interruption from outside. None came.

"See, the thing is, I find out I was freakin' dead, and now I'm alive again. I gotta tell ya, I'm knocked for six, I don't know how to feel about anything. But the strange thing is, you guys," she motioned to where they had been standing in her room earlier, "Y'all don't seem too surprised by this. I mean, yeah, you're surprised to see me and all, but not full-on freaked. I gotta ask. Who the hell are you, Dean Winchester?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Guys, I just want to say a huge thanks for the great reviews. As always, keep them coming. There's nothing better than knowing I'm doing my favourite characters justice. I'm happy to see some of you speculating how it could all end, but I'm keeping quiet about that so far!**

**This chapter is mostly Dean and Jo so the shippers should be happy!**

* * *

><p>The smirk returned. Yeah, she could definitely get used to that smirk.<p>

"It's funny, 'cause time was, you thought you had me all figured out. Now, you're asking who I am? Who do you _think _I am, Jo?"

"I think you're someone who's enjoying being in control, which I'm guessing is rare for us. Seems like I called the shots when we knew each other before."

"More like tried to, out of damn stubbornness," he muttered.

"What was that, Princess? Are you being glib with me?"

His eyes shot to meet hers as she spoke. The smirk was less a smirk, more of a wondrous gaze now.

"What did you just call me?"

"I said.. uh.. what was it again?"

"'Princess', you said 'princess'." His grin returned and he shook his head, looking at the floor. "I think you're remembering more of who you used to be, Jo."

"Yeah, maybe, but not any more of who you are. Stop avoiding the question, _Princess," s_he frowned. He definitely had somewhat of an attachment to her, but she really didn't know what that could mean. Hoping to figure out the nature of their relationship without directly _asking_ the hottie sitting by her bed, she prodded further.

"How do we know each other, Dean?"

"We're kind of... work colleagues I guess. But our families go way back."

"So we grew up together?"

"No, we didn't meet until we were in our twenties. Sammy and I stopped by your mom's bar looking for leads."

"Leads? Like in an investigation? We're detectives?"

He let a small chuckle escape from his throat.

"Something like that, yeah. Listen, Jo, I'm sure all these questions aren't helping your recovery-"

"I'll decide that, thanks. You.. you said my mom's bar.. I remember a bar. There was one in my dream. I can still smell it."

"Yeah, like Bud, blood and - "

"-Beer nuts. The best smell in the world. I've heard that before.." she smiled. She knew the memory was a fond one, if only it wasn't just out of reach.

"Our friend Ash says it. Well, he's dead, but he definitely says it. Guy's a genius."

"Why are you talking about him like he's alive? Was he resurrected too? Does nobody stay dead anymore?"

"No Ash is still dead, but lets just say I've seen him since then."

"You know what _isn't_ helping my recovery, Dean? You being so damn cryptic. Why am I back from the dead?"

"Jo, if I knew, I'd share, but I honestly haven't got a clue. When the rest of us were brought back, it was to serve a purpose, or to right a wrong. We just haven't figured yours out yet."

"The rest? So it's not just you who's been brought back?"

"Not really, uh Sammy's died twice. Bobby once. Me? I lost count in the low hundreds."

"Dean, who the _hell_ are you?"

He smirked again. It was beginning to get frustrating.

"Okay, okay. Don't blow a gasket. Look, you know how you asked if we're detectives? Well that's only half the job. We call ourselves Hunters. We track, fight and kill creatures that mean to harm people. Sometimes we stick around to clean up after a job, but not always."

"You mean like exterminators? We kill pests?" She couldn't really hide her disappointment.

"In a way, yeah. But these aren't rats, roaches or roadkill. I'm talking about seriously dangerous stuff. Of the paranormal kind."

"Supernatural stuff?" Her head was reeling.

He cleared his throat.

"The only way I can explain it is. You know all those things little kids are afraid of? Ghosts, monsters, bogeymen? All real. The stuff you see in horror films and on TV? Real too. And we fight them. You, me, Sam, Bobby, even your Mom did it Jo, and our dads."

As she clarified more details of her life before waking up in the alley, little pieces came together, and Jo got a better sense of who she was. She knew what her mom looked like from her dreams (or flashbacks, as she now guessed they were) and could imagine – and started to remember - the two of them working together. A bad ass female hunting duo, wreaking havoc on the creatures of the night, not needing help from anyone. The heroes of their own story. She remembered her mom's husky voice. The sparkle in her eye, still so beautiful and youthful despite her age. The strength of her wisdom and the intensity of their love for each other. They were family, never to be parted. Jo started to really wish her mom was there, too. Especially hearing the circumstances of how they both lost their lives.

She grieved over her loss for the first time. Dean held her as she cried and she buried her face into the coarse material of his jacket. Almost shocked at how familiar it felt, she realised it was the same familiar old scent of her father's. The imprints of a shared lifestyle. The life of a hunter.

After a few minutes of reflection, Jo realised her original question had gone unanswered. Feeling more comfortable with an old friend, she took the plunge and asked out straight.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Before I died.. you and I never.. I mean did we?... I mean. Ugh they say this stuff gets easier to talk about after high school.." she grumbled. Mr. Smirk made a reappearance.

"Did we...what? I don't know what you mean, Joanna.. " he taunted.

She instantly hated and loved him more.

"I mean were we _together_?"

He laughed. Loudly. Jo sank into her bed further.

"No, Jo. We were a case of the could've-beens."

"Oh," she responded, not sure how to feel about his answer.

"I mean it's not like you didn't try. Like the night before you got killed.. man, you begged and you _begged, _but I mean, Jo, I'm a _gentleman_. I couldn't take advantage of a girl who's feeling vulnerable that she may die soon. I've got self-respect."

She frowned in response.

"Why doesn't that feel like something I would do? I mean, if I thought I was going to die soon, wouldn't I want to keep some dignity?"

It clicked with her what he was up to. She whacked him instantly with her pillow.

"LIAR! That's not what happened at all, is it? Tell me the truth!"

He laughed until she whacked him again.

"Okay, okay! No, that didn't happen. I gave you the option, but you shot me down. There, you happy? Besides, if we had done something, amnesiac or not, you wouldn't forget," he winked.

"So we never even kissed?"

"I think, if you remember really hard, you'll know the answer to that," he teased, raising his eyebrows.

"I can't remember anything, Dean, why do you think I asked you?" she spat, frustrated at his use of an unfair advantage.

"You really don't remember? You don't remember the romantic, last-moments gesture? I did the movie star 'cup-your-face-in-my-hands' and everything before I planted one on ya'. I kissed your forehead, Jo! Nada?"

"I really don't remember, Dean. I'm sure it was nice though."

"Nice? Nice? It was heart-wrenching! If you could remember you'd cry!"

"I'm not sure the mark of a good kiss is that it makes you cry, Dean. "

"Yeah, yeah what do you know, Ms. Memoryfoam.." he grumbled. She had to admit, the way he was reacting to not rocking her world was thoroughly enjoyable. She was set to continue taunting when it started.

Ringing. A high pitched, break-windows and burst-ear-drums deafening sound that caused her to scream in pain and curl up in the foetal position clutching her own head. She shouted to Dean for help, squinting open long enough to see he wasn't affected at all. Confusion and worry on his features told her that whatever was happening wasn't going on around her, it was in her own head. She wasn't sure which would be worse.

And just like that, it stopped.

When she could open her eyes again, Sam and Bobby had re-entered the room and were standing around waiting for a sign she was okay.

"Jo, what happened?" Sam asked, cautiously.

As she began to explain, a flicker of recognition formed in Dean's eyes. He knew what it was. And he was afraid of it.

"Jo, do you remember having any contact with angels lately? Like in a vessel? They would look like normal people but.. bigger dicks."

"Not.. not that I know of." Suddenly, she remembered. She'd heard that sound before, only last time it hadn't hurt so much, because she had been in heaven.

"I've heard that noise before, Dean, only last time... last time I was too busy concentrating on something else. Someone was talking to me. They were giving me a message. It was-"

She paused and squeezed her eyes shut as the memory played out in her head.

"Dean, Sam, I think it was your dad..."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, sorry for the gap in updates once again! But the good news is, this is a Dean chapter, told entirely from his (and a few times, Sam's) POV. So hopefully I'm able to write a guy's perspective too!**

**It takes place the morning after Jo had her flashback to John speaking to her. As always, comment if you have any questions or thoughts! If you want more Dean POV chapters, let me know if you think this works.**

Blankets - check.

Pillow – check.

Bottled water – check.

Chocolate for energy (and to prevent whining) – check.

Dean-sized hoodie (his favourite) for warmth – check.

And a whole stack of magazines.

He ran through the mental list in his head. It had been a while since the Impala had been set up for a girl but now that Jo was back, he didn't want her to need anything she couldn't have.

Sam approached and peered in the window.

"Jo moving in here for a week? I'm sure we could spring for a hotel room, Dean," he jibed.

"You know how whiny chicks get, man. I just don't wanna have to listen to it when I'm trying to drive. I like to get in the zone with my baby," he motioned his hand out from his chest. "Pretend it's just me and her and the open road. No passengers."

"And when have you ever known Jo to be whiny? C'mon, she had half her guts spilled on the floor and was still a smart-ass."

Sam knew the real reason he was going to all this trouble. Dean had always been sweet on Jo, and her coming back meant he had a second chance to be with her, to start over. Still, it would be more fun to watch Dean avoid admitting it than to show him he knew.

"Yeah she's brave, I know. Still, she can at least be comfortable. _It's the least I can do,_" he trailed off as he walked around to the trunk.

Sam wandered towards a delicatessen across the way. Chocolate wasn't going to help much in the way of recovery and he knew Jo would like something that wasn't so processed. He felt Deans eyes on him as he hovered around the back of the Impala. Whatever he was doing, it was private. Sam knew better than to hang around.

Opening the hatch, Dean pulled a small shotgun out half way to look at. A Winchester 1887. Trying to keep it under cover (so as not to put the hospital on lock-down), he examined it one last time. Checked the barrel, rounds, buffed the shaft with a piece of cloth. When he was sure it was in perfect condition, he wrapped it in a torn rag from one of his old flannel shirts and placed it back in the trunk. Just as he shut the lid, Jo limped out of the hospital entrance, supported by Bobby.

"Damn girl wouldn't take a wheelchair," Bobby grumbled.

"I'm pretty sure you've had _your_ fill of wheelchairs, Bobby. Can you blame me?" she responded, her voice faltering from the exertion. "Besides, I'm not actually hurt. I'm just stiff, not pregnant."

Dean slid a hand around her waist and supported her from the other side.

"Getting a little friendly there, partner," she chided, nodding her head towards his hand which was now closer to her butt than her waist.

"Sorry," was his sheepish response. Probably best not to feel the girl up on her way out of the sick bay.

"So you remember when Bobby was Terror on Two Wheels?" he asked. She really did seem to be getting her memory back.

"I knew he was different when I saw him, just couldn't pin it down. I've been dreaming about bits and pieces of my life before I died, and Bobby was in one" She turned to look at him and jerked her head towards his legs. "How'd you get cured?"

"Rather not talk about it."

"Demon Deal," Dean clarified.

"Ah. Nice deal. Hope you didn't have to give too much up."

No response. Dean shrugged when she looked to him for information. As they reached the car, he pulled away to open a backseat door. Jo crouched before carefully crawling in.

"What's all this?"

"Comforts for the drive."

"Nice. Anything's better than hospital gowns and bad TV. Thanks, Dean."

He could tell by the look on her face that she meant it. Satisfaction wrote itself over his features.

She moved the pillow into position and made herself comfy in the blankets.

Dean had so many more questions for her but knew they would have to wait. She had pretty much passed out the night before, after her little chat with the angels. They had an eight hour drive back to Bobby's and he'd find out more eventually. He climbed into the driver's seat and started up the engine.

"I'm takin' a detour on the way back, got a friend in Des Moines who needs help identifying a protection charm. Should be back a few hours after you guys. Let yourself in," Bobby called over the roar. He tossed a key on to the passenger seat and nodded to Jo by way of parting.

Dean honked the horn to hurry Sam up just as he made his way out of the deli. Leaning over the seat to check on Jo, he found her giggling while holding out a magazine. Dean's copy of Busty Asian Beauties was dangled in front of his face.

"Somehow I don't think this was meant for me..."

He snatched it off her. "Uh, no.. Sammy... Sammy loves eastern culture. Must've got mixed up in there."

"Yeah.. Sam..."

"What about me?" Sam asked as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"Dean was just telling me how you're a cultured man of the world."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me I shouldn't agree with that."

"Probably not," Jo laughed as she picked up a classic rock magazine.

"Here, got you some fuel for the road," he said, handing her a paper bag with a sandwich and some pasta salad. Dean pulled the Impala out of the parking lot.

"Sam, you are a hero to my waistline," she praised, rifling through the bag and tearing off a corner of the sandwich to munch on.

Dean shook his head and smiled. "There goes breakfast cravings at White Castle then.."

An hour into the drive and Jo was snoozing in the back seat. Sam checked if she was still asleep before whispering to Dean.

"What do you think she was talking about last night? Angels? …...Dad? You think he had something to do with her resurrection?"

"Don't know, man, but we're not questioning her until she's got some strength back. She's had a hell of a few days."

"Yeah, sure, I know. I'm just curious though. You think it's a coincidence that our biggest angel ally goes nuclear and one of our dead friends gets brought back? Maybe she's been sent to help us."

"Sent by who? Dad? Where would he get that kind of juice? He's just a soul. He can't control life or death any more than we can. "

"Maybe by Cas? To mess with us? Or distract us?"

"I don't think he sees us as that much of a threat, Sammy."

"Maybe? But everyone else seemed to underestimate us. Maybe Cas is the only one who knows what we can do."

Dean thought about that for a moment. It could very well be true, but he didn't want to think that one of his best friends would used an innocent girl just to mess with him, no matter how dangerous they were. It all seemed a little too personal for Cas. Too low. Or maybe it was just too difficult to think about.

He peered at Jo in his rear-view-mirror. She was frowning in her sleep lost to a dream. He wished he could see what it was she was seeing right now. Maybe he could figure out what was going on before anyone got hurt.

The main thing that worried him was: if Jo had been sent back by Cas, who's to say she wouldn't be brought back to the afterlife once she had completed her purpose? Was there any point in trying to start fresh with her if she was just going to be snatched away again? Dean adjusted the car stereo and fixed his attention back on the road. If He was going to lose her again, she wasn't going to go without a fight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Very short chapter, but I just felt like this was something I wanted to include for you guys. I'll have a little more plot development in the next one. This is just to keep the shipper in me happy ;)**

**Review with your reactions!**

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><p>That face. It was back. It was smug. She hated it so much that it was all she focused on. But this time, it had context. This was the face of the woman who had caused her death. In a blur of flashing images, stolen memories and fragments of experience, Jo felt minor disgust upon seeing this woman. Then she remembered panic; this person was threatening something very dear to Jo, something she cherished. But more than that, she was taking away the potential for something special before Jo could reach it. She was pulling hope from under her. As her heart raced, Jo fought through the mist in her mind. This was the day she died. This person, this – this demon – wasn't robbing her of some<em><strong>thing,<strong>_it was snatching some_**one**_from her life. She watched it happen in slow motion. They were running. Her mom keeping a close eye on her, never turning away for more than a split second to watch her own step. The barking, snarling, seething rage of what was after them. She heard a thud and expected the worst. She turned around and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Dean!"

The Impala swerved, Sam bracing himself against the dashboard. It skidded to a halt and Dean turned in his seat, his face had no colour left in it and his eyes were wider than she'd seen them.

"Jo? Jo – what the hell. I could have crashed. You're dreaming," he breathed, reaching over the seat to grab her shoulder.

"I – know -I -I'm sorry. I forgot where I was."

"What were you dreaming about?" Sam asked, giving a sidelong glance in Dean's direction, which the older brother returned.

Raking a hand through her blonde waves, Jo frowned with the effort of recollection. "I keep dreaming about my life before, right? Well I think this time...it was the day I died."

Dean's gaze fell to the ground. It seemed to affect him deeply any time she brought up her own death.

"Hellhounds, they're invisible, right?"

"That's right. Uh, you can hear, smell, even feel them, but you can't see a thing. It's like they exist on a separate plane from ours. Doesn't affect the damage they can do. As I'm sure you know.." Sam answered, in place of Dean, who seemed to be focusing his attention on the setting sun outside the car.

"Yeah, they were in my dream," she responded absent-mindedly as she gazed at the older Winchester. Another memory was triggered and her eyes shot back to Sam. "There was also this girl. She was young, brunette, pretty.."

"Meg," Sam replied.

"The demon involved in my death?"

A nod in response.

"Huh. She looks so... _angelic_. I'd never suspect it."

"Yeah she fooled us too, way back when. That wasn't the first time you met her, either..."

"It wasn't?"

"No, there was another time, in Duluth," now it was Sam's turn to avert his gaze, "I... I guess you'll remember that too, eventually. I'm here to talk when you do."

There was a sadness in Sam's voice which made Jo agree to his request. Whatever it was this demon had done to her, it was clear he felt in some way responsible for it. She didn't envy her old friends' sense of duty and burden. How lonely must it feel to be the protector of so many, and to only have each other?

Dean cleared his throat, and let out a soft chuckle. "And here I was thinkin' you screaming my name in your sleep would be a good thing," he joked, raising an eyebrow in Sam's direction. The younger bother scoffed and turned round in his seat, slotting his earphones back in, closing his eyes and resuming the play list Jo had interrupted.

"You were in my dream too, Dean," she informed him.

"Figured I would be. Just sorry it wasn't in nicer- -or maybe s_weatier _-circumstances," he offered, raising an eyebrow and allowing a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. She couldn't help but smile in reply.

"Ha. Ha. Dean, you know what I'm talking about. I know the reason now."

His smirk turned to a frown.

"Reason for what?"

"I mean, I know why I died."

"You do? It never seemed to make much sense to me, Jo. I always thought it was a loss we could have avoided. I beat myself up about it every time I thought of that day. Thought of your mom. Thought of you."

His had drew itself to the short hairs on the back of his head. He grunted in frustration and turned back towards the steering wheel. Slamming his hands down on it, he vented his anger on the one love of his life who could take the beating – the Impala. He shook his head and ran a knuckle over his bottom lip, staring outside once again in his own private reverie.

"You don't get it, do you?" she interrupted. A slight twitch of his head told her he was still listening, even if he wouldn't turn round.

"I'm still just finding out who I am Dean, but I still know why I made certain decisions. It was a split second, I know, But. Something tells me that, even if it was replayed a thousand times over, I'd still do the same thing. It wasn't a pointless loss, you idiot. There was a reason for my death. It was so you could live, and continue to help people. I'm glad I died, Dean, because I died saving you."


	7. Chapter 7

The rest of the drive to Bobby's was uneventful. Sam took over driving for the final hour, it seemed as if Dean' mind was elsewhere, and he missed several turns which added time on to their journey. Jo alternated between sleeping and staring out the window, wondering how the world could have changed so little when the Apocalypse had come and gone. As they approached Singer Auto Parts, the sign alone filled Jo with a strange relief. This place was a sanctuary. A place to run to in times of hardship. A family home.

Sam opened the door as Dean helped her out of the Impala. The smell of gasoline and metal in the air only added to their welcome. Jo settled herself on the couch, not planning on moving for a while, and asked Sam for a beer once she spotted the two he was taking from the fridge.

"You sure you should be drinking yet?" Dean gingerly enquired. The look she shot back at him gave him his answer. He kicked off his boots and settled down beside her. He was at the far end of the couch and she could tell he was wishing it was longer. Maybe it was a mistake bearing her emotions to him in the car. She started to understand why nothing had progressed between them. He had fallen silent after their discussion, muttering to himself, frowning in reflection. Was he always this emotionally unavailable?

They stared at the TV after Sam had excused himself to another room with his laptop. He had said it was research, but Jo knew the tension and silence in the room was making him uncomfortable. Hell, it was making _her _uncomfortable.

Dean jumped out of his seat and headed towards the kitchen. She heard him banging around, taking ingredients out of the fridge and slamming doors.

"Making a sandwich, Want one?"

She declined, knowing it was just a reason for him to keep busy in case she got all chick-flick on him again. Fucking men.

He settled down beside her again and she could feel his sidelong glances as she stared at whatever reality show was making a fool out of celebrities.

"Got something you want to say, partner?" she finally asked. She couldn't take the discomfort anymore and was frankly curious as to what the hell he was thinking.

"Yeah, well. no. Later."

"Stop wrapping me up in cotton wool, Dean. Spit it out. You've been weird as hell since I told you about my dream."

"I was... I was just wondering what you know. About why you're back, I mean."

She sighed. He smelled a hunt, and he wasn't going to rest until she gave him something to go on.

"I keep having dreams. Little parts of my life, and my time in heaven keep coming back. I told you I saw your dad."

His gaze averted. She knew it was a difficult subject, especially when she mentioned it. She still wasn't sure why.

"The image of him that keeps flashing back, it's intense."

"Intense like.. how? Is he hurt?"

"No, but he's panicked. He's holding my shoulders," she frowned, closing her eyes to recall the image. "He's almost shaking me, as if what he's saying is so important that he has to _shake_ it in to me." Her hands grasped at the air, mimicking John's actions as the memory played out. "It's difficult to hear him because of that god awful ringing. I was more reading his lips than anything."

"Can you make out what he's saying?"

Jo frowned harder, desperately trying to recall the memory.

"GAH! It's so frustrating!" she spat.

"It's okay, it's understandable, you're still getting your memory back. Don't stress yourself. Although.."

"Although what?"

"There is something we could try. If you wanted to speed things up. But ONLY if you wanted to. "

"What is it?"

"I'm not trained, I've only seen it done once, and that was on an angel.."

"Spit it out, Dean."

"Hypnosis.."

She sat back in her seat. Did she want Dean Winchester poking around in her head unsupervised?

"Can Sam be there too?"

"Of course."

"What would it involve?"

"Just a deep sleep, we can jimmy free some of those memories that you can't quite grab yet. I wouldn't ask but we need to know if you're in danger. Whoever sent you here used a lot of power, I just want to know that we don't owe anyone a debt. "

She reflected for a moment, weighing up what could happen if she said yes. Clearly her mind was protecting her by blocking out some memories. But her friends could be in serious danger. She couldn't live with herself knowing she had the key to their survival locked away in her head, and hadn't done enough to find it.

"Okay. How do we do this?"


	8. Chapter 8

**_Yeah, I know, two updates in the same day, but what can I say, inspiration struck. Plus I feel I should make up for being MIA the past while, I was away on holiday and was working up until then, so haven't had much time. Hope you guys are still interested in this little fic of mine._**

**_This chapter is Dean POV, then Jo POV and back to Dean again. :)_**

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><p><em>Why the hell did I even suggest this?<em>

"Why the hell did you even suggest this, Dean?_" _Sam hissed

"I don't know, man, I was just thinking aloud and she was into it. Seemed like a good idea. It didn't seem too difficult when Pam did it."

"Yeah, Pam was also a medium and smarter than you are, obviously. I can't believe Jo agreed."

"Me neither, she's definitely got amnesia. "

They were huddled together over the desk in Bobby's study, Sam researching methods of hypnosis online and Dean skimming the pages of a hypnotherapy book while drumming the intro to _Anthem_ by Rush with two pens on the wood.

"I don't think you've got your head in the game with this one."

"What are you talking about? I'm reading a freakin' book. Look!" he said, grabbing the book with one hand and letting it smack back on to the desk.

"That's kind of what I mean." He let out a sigh before continuing. " Dude, if this wasn't Jo we were dealing with, would you be so anxious to go poking round in her head so soon? What happened to 'waiting until she has her strength back'?"

"If it was anyone else, it wouldn't be personal. There are people – angels – out there who associate Jo with us. Whatever is going on here, it's because of us. I'm not taking the risk on her again."

Dean knew Sam was right, but he knew what he was saying was also true. It was their fault Jo had died, and since she was back, the reason was for them to find out. He went back to the start of the paragraph he had been reading when a freshly showered Jo peeked her head around the door. She looked damn good, all glistening skin and hair pinned up.

"Shower's free, guys. Any luck on the research?"

"It seems pretty simple, but I'm gonna let Sammy handle it, just in case. He was blessed with the relaxing, feminine voice." Sam's eyes narrowed and he shot Dean a look of annoyance. "Now, now little bro', no bitchfaces. Learn to take a compliment."

"Yeah, as my Batman-voiced brother said, I'll handle the hypnosis. I took an Psych elective while I was at Stanford. We covered this briefly but now I'm just boning up."

Jo looked instantly relieved, which told Dean she had been rethinking the decision.

"You sure you wanna go ahead with this, Jo? All you have to do is say the word and we'll abandon ship."

"No, really. It's fine. I'm just nervous, I think anyone would be. I mean, I know we're all friends, but from my point of view, I don't know you guys all that well.."

"Jo, seriously, we would never let any harm come to you. Again. The first time was kind of your own doing."

"Ouch, Dean.." Jo retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock offence.

"Yeah, Dean..._ouch,_" Sam cut in. "Way to be sorry for getting her killed," Sam teased.

"Oh, you know what I mean. If she had been running in the right direction when the hellhounds were after us maybe she would never have died."

"Thanks for saving my life, Jo! It was a real brave thing you did, _Jo!_ Gee, it's not every day a girl would shoot a hellhound off of you and keep going until you got away. _Good Job,_ _Jo!_" she mocked in a surly voice which sounded nothing like Dean's. He laughed until his sides hurt, not because she was funny – she wasn't half as funny as she thought she was – but because in all his time grieving for her, he never thought he'd get a chance to argue with her again.

"I guess that came out wrong. Sorry, Jo. And thank you." She folded her arms in satisfaction that he had apologised.

"Good enough," she answered and reached for her mess of damp hair. "Okay, I'll get dressed and then I'm all yours, Sammy," she winked, for Dean's benefit more than Sam's.

A tiny pang of jealousy plucked at Dean's heart. He told himself to stop being an idiot, but he knew what had always been there between them. The problem was, Jo couldn't remember. That wink was the wink that drove the Roadhouse customers wild and earned her so many tips, Dean recalled, as she sashayed up the hallway, letting her hair fall down about her shoulders. She could hustle anyone who walked into that bar and they'd almost thank her afterwards, as long as she flashed a smile and served a witty comment with their beer. Jo Harvelle sure was something. She could break a guys heart like a shot glass and she didn't even know it.

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><p>Pulling on the same pair of jeans as before along with a v-neck shirt belonging to Dean (they had decided that Sam's would be 'ridiculously too big' as opposed to Dean's just 'too big' on her tiny frame), Jo wondered the point of showering at all. Yeah, she smelled better, but now she looked like a sexually confused teenage boy. Once again, she questioned why being in the presence of Dean Winchester made her so looks-conscious.<p>

She followed the two men down to the basement of Bobby's house, pausing before entering the panic room. She was impressed at it's workmanship but also slightly apprehensive that someone would need something like this in their home.

_Bobby must fight a lot of monsters._

She sat on the cot in the corner of the room and looked at the two men she was trusting with her sanity. And her life.

"Last chance to back out, Jo," Sam offered. She could tell he was slightly against the idea, but didn't want to influence her decision. She internally thanked him for being so sweet.

"I'm sure, Sam, now, how do we do this?"

Sam instructed her to lay down and begin clearing her thoughts, and to picture some place that made her happy.

"You should imagine somewhere safe, and picture things there that bring you comfort."

"_Picture yourself naaaa-ked in a hot tub with Mila Kunisssss. You waaant to invite your friend Dean to join you and Mila Kunisssss,_"

"Dean!" Sam and Jo shouted in unison.

"Not the time," dude, Sam reprimanded.

"Are you sure you guys are good hunters? I mean, you're successful at what you do, right?" Jo asked, nervously.

"We don't have statistics, but we did stop the apocalypse," Sam answered.

"No more funny business?" she quizzed, looking to both brothers for the answer but lingering on the older of the two. Sam nodded and Dean drew an imaginary cross over his heart as a promise.

Jo went back to clearing her mind, letting Sam's voice become part of her thoughts. After what seemed like seconds, she was back in the Roadhouse, her memory accurate down to the smell of stale beer. She soon realised she was in the heavenly version of her childhood home, as anything outside the windows seemed to blur in and out of focus. Like a bad TV reception.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and the glasses hanging above the beer taps started trembling to the floor. Frantically, Jo looked around for cover but a strong hand grabbed her leg and pulled her under the pool table before she could make her choice. The pain of the fall was put to the back of her mind when the front door of the bar burst open, and an impossibly bright light searched the interior. The strong hands then grabbed her again, turning her away from the light, shielding her. Then the ringing started.

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><p>"She's not really talking, dude, are you sure she's not just sleeping?"<p>

"It said in my research that it takes some people longer to create their imagery. She's still awake though, I can see her acting something out."

"Yeah, a dream. Dogs do that too. Think they're chasing tennis balls and their paws start jerking," Dean gestured a half-hearted doggie-paddle in the air. "I'm telling you, Sam, it didn't wor-."

Jo opened her eyes and sat bolt upright on the cot. There was a strange glow coming from her eyes, and she gasped sharply.

"Jo! Joanna! Joanna!"

"Why is she calling her own name? What the hell is going on?" Dean asked a clueless Sam. Jo continued shouting her own name over and over, but it didn't sound quite right. A change was coming over her voice, it was getting deeper, masculine, kind of like her mocking of Dean's earlier. But this was a little too good to be simple imitation. This was not Jo's voice.

"Joanna! Listen to me. You have to go back. Go back and find my boys." The voice was familiar. The brothers looked to each other as the realisation hit them.

"Dad?" Dean breathed. Jo – or was it John – continued.

"Find Sam and Dean!You have to warn them! I don't know.. maybe they can do something. Jo, Listen carefully. This is what you have to tell them..."


	9. Chapter 9

_**I didn't think you guys would forgive me if I kept you waiting for the next part. This is probably the most important chapter to date, so bear with it. I hope I was able to convey what's happening here properly. I know what's going on in my head, but whether I wrote it properly is another thing! If you have any queries or comments about this chapter, don't be afraid to ask! Enjoy! :)**_

There was a pause then, the brothers looked to each other and wondered if somehow that was all they were going to get. Suddenly, Jo – John – spoke once again. There was a grunt of frustration, and the detached voice continued.

"Screw it. Dean, Sam, if you're listening to this, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.. Heaven's at war. Castiel has become insane with power. " Sam and Dean were speechless. Dean's head fell into his hands as Sam got up to pace the room. Maybe he was trying to calm himself, or maybe he wanted to lengthen the distance from what he was hearing, Dean wasn't sure.

"He's not satisfied with the souls from Purgatory, He's hunting the rest of us down now.. He's consuming entire realities. It's an all-out massacre! Your mother and I escaped when they came for us, we're hiding out with Ellen, Bill and Ash, but we can only hold out for so long." Sam stopped dead as Dean looked to his brother. He could see the same devastation written on his face as Dean himself was feeling. Reeling from the first blow of information, they braced themselves for more.

"We're trying to find a way to get a message to Earth. Ash thinks he can somehow imprint this moment on Jo's soul. If you're hearing this, we got though to the Former God, and the imprint worked, but he's only got limited power. Castiel has shut him out of Heaven. God's reach can only go so far, but he's bringing Jo back. I'm sorry that it had to be her. I'm so sorry. But we needed someone who we knew you'd protect with your lives. Someone who could take care of herself too. You see, we had to search Heaven's library for him. Jo holds the key to opening the gate for God again." Dean clutched Jo's hand. So she was a pawn. A simple messenger sent with a burden of helping every soul in Heaven. Even after she had gone down fighting, Jo still hadn't been allowed eternal rest. Now she was back and on the brink of another war. The enormity of the Herculean task given to this young woman he cared about so much hit him. A stray tear made it's way down Dean's cheek.

Still, John continued.

"The key's encoded in her memory. You need to help her uncover it, only she knows what it is – she chose something close to her heart. And God - you have to find him. He's the only one who can help us. Oh God! God help us!"

With that, Jo's mouth opened wider, and the ringing – that ear-bursting hum which had been plaguing her since her resurrection, was coming out of her mouth. The brothers clutched at their ears, desperately trying to shut out the reverberation. Dean even made an attempt to shield Jo from the sound, but the din was so loud when he was close to her, he felt his ears start to bleed, and fell back.

The 'recording' stopped then, and Joanna's eyes and mouth closed as her fragile body slumped back on to the cot. It was hard to believe such a momentous revelation had come from someone so slight, so delicate, so _human_. Joanna Beth Harvelle was the key to Heaven. She was the key to the salvation of so many souls. Loved ones, families, fond memories and soulmates. She had to help them all now, and Dean couldn't shield her from that.

Hours passed and Jo still slept. When Bobby returned from Des Moines, they undertook the unenviable task of relaying the events of the day to him. Dean wished for all the world they could keep it from him, so that nobody else would have to know what they did. Understandably, his mind went to one place first.

"Karen? Did he say anything about Karen?"

"No, Bobby, I'm sorry," Sam answered, finally.

The look on Bobby's face, and how his posture slumped reminded Dean of how his Dad had looked in the months after Mary's death. To Bobby, he'd just lost Karen all over again. In that moment Dean wished he could summon Cas and make him answer for everything he was doing. Make him look Bobby in the eye and see the devastation he was causing. But he knew it was of no use. It would be a long time before Cas would be answering Dean's prayers – if ever.

That night, as he sat by Jo's bed, monitoring her vitals, Dean thought back to the moment he'd lost his best friend. His blood had frozen in his veins the first time he saw that vacant look in those normally piercing blue eyes. Castiel had 'checked out'. Each scrap of humanity that he had earned from building their friendship had been wiped clean from him. Cas was no longer an ally – he was now the most powerful foe they had ever faced, and he knew he was out of the Winchester's league. Worse than that, he knew their thoughts, and that Dean and Sam were well aware that they were powerless against him. Ironically, this had been their one saving grace. Castiel didn't wish to waste time on them – he had bigger plans now. Feeling equivalent to a piece of dirt on the sole of a former friend's shoe is not the greatest feeling in life. It's even worse if it's true.

In the months that followed, the hunters looked for signs that things were changing – but nothing significantly had. Crowley had gone missing, and demons and monsters were few and far between. Maybe the presence of a more vengeful God had scared them into hiding, or maybe they realised that the torment of humankind was now a job for someone else. Whatever the cause, hunters all over the world were reporting a drop in cases. Even though Castiel's ascension seemed to spell the end for the forces of good, the reality was the opposite. Goodness was prevailing. Deep down, Dean had hoped that this meant Cas had had a change of heart. After today, he berated himself for being so naive.

Jo's eyes flickered a handful of times before opening wide. They looked around the room, as if making sense of where she was. Finally, they came to rest on Dean. Startled, Jo sat up in the bed, and clutched at her chest with one hand. As her breathing slowed, she stared Dean in the eye. He knew by the look on her face that she had remembered everything. She knew of the burden crushing down on her. She rested her palms on the top of her head and slid them down her cheeks, almost willing the memory to erase itself from her mind again. She looked to Dean once again, and the pain he saw written across her face was almost enough to break him. Although he wasn't responsible for anything happening to her, he knew what that burden felt like. He knew what it was like to be called upon for something you never signed up for. He wanted to tell her that he understood, that she was strong, that they'd figure everything out together. But Dean Winchester was never good with words, so he simply said, "I'm sorry."

And Jo Harvelle broke down.

_**A/N: If you're a Cas fan and you're not completely happy with where things are going, please stick with me, I love him too and will do him justice :)**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, inspiration finally struck to do this update, I hope the story is still making sense and you're all still following it!**

**I just want to thank everyone who reviewed, you guys are invaluble to me. Without feedback I don't think I would have passed the first chapter.**

**In particular I want to thank Silverspoon and Mali Bear's Buddy. You ladies and your enthusiasm are what makes me really enjoy doing this.**

**And to anyone lurking, let me know what you think! I know you're out there, I can hear you breathing... ;)**

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><p>They stayed in the same position for what must have been three hours, the silence only interrupted by Jo's mournful sobs and gasps for air. Her pain had become physical, the weight of the world crushing down on her, making it difficult for her to fill her lungs properly. Jo was strong, she was brave and determined and she was dynamic. And now she was curled on this bed, hugging herself like the lost little girl everyone had said she was. In normal circumstances, she would have kicked herself for wallowing. In truth, there was so little in life she shied away from, but she was broken now. The knowledge of what lay ahead of her; what her family were going through; it was just too much to bear. It was the final straw on the strongest of backs.<p>

Dean had given up trying to find the right words – there were none. The best wordsmiths in the world couldn't have found the correct thing to say. So he crawled on to the bed and held her. Her tiny frame moulded itself to him, searching for comfort. She gripped him with an intensity that was tangible. He buried his face into her blonde waves, desperately trying to transfer the burden from her. But the reality was, if he held her tight enough to break her, it still wouldn't be enough. There they stayed, in a wordless haze, holding on to each other as their lives spiralled away.

Somewhere around the early hours, Jo finally invited sleep.

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><p>In Bobby's kitchen the following morning, the three male hunters exchanged nothing more than solemn glances. Dean was a ball of pent-up rage, and Sam knew from experience to let him process what was happening to them. Bobby busied himself with his daily routine. At 9.45, he was an FBI agent who had sent two of his juniors to Nebraska and tore the local sheriff a new one for calling him with stupid questions. Around 10.30, he talked to the Virginia Coast Guard and left them red-faced for picking up female hunter, Tamara, who was caught spying on a boathouse in the hopes of unearthing a vamp nest (she had been few miles off the shore, and they weren't buying that a dinghy was standard federal transport). It seemed impossible to believe life was carrying on outside the salvage yard, yet it it stumbled forward.<p>

By 11, Sam had had enough of the silence.

"Anyone got a clue where we go from here?"

Dean dropped the coffee cup he had been cleaning a little too thoroughly into the sink, and fixed a stern glare on his brother.

"Alright, hot-shot," he barked, planting himself on the chair opposite his sibling. "How about you go wake Jo up and tell her that her devastation is costing us time?"

"I didn't mean that, I just think we could be doing something until she's ready to do...whatever it is she has to."

"Oh, and you've got some bright ideas, Sam? Lay 'em on me 'cause I'm all ears."

"He's right."

Both brothers turned to the doorway where Jo stood. Showered and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, for the first time she looked like the hunter she had become before her life was snatched away.

"We haven't got a lot of time to stand around here arguing like kids. My parents – and yours - are in danger. Hell, all of us are. And if it's up to me to stop it, then I'm ready."

Bobby entered at the sound of her voice, wiping oil from his hands on a rag that he tossed over his shoulder.

"Now, you listen, girl.." he began, pointing a finger in the petite blonde's direction, but was soon interrupted by Dean.

"Jo, you have to take some time, it's only been hours since we found out all this. I don't wanna go in half-cocked or it could mess everything up," he countered.

"What is it with you and assuming I'm not prepared?" She then turned to Dean:"You thought the same when we hunted H.H. Holmes all those years ago. I shut you up with my case file didn't I?"

"You were unprepared, Jo! We ended up on a rescue mission.." His head jerked back with a sudden realisation. "Wait, you remember that?"

"I remember everything. Even where I stashed my bag of clothes the last night I stayed here," she said, touching the fabric of her shirt thoughtfully. "But this was my Mom's."

The hunters looked to each other in disbelief. Jo shook herself from her reverie and carried on.

"I even remember Heaven.. everything that's happening – has happened. It's...it's bad, guys," she trailed off, her voice just a whisper, as her mind's eye replayed what she'd seen. She took a seat at the table next to them and began to relay the story.

"I don't know how long I'd been there before Ash found a way to get to me. He told me he'd seen you guys, and you'd told him about my Mom and me," she smiled then, remembering her closest friend and the first time she met him since suffering such a tragic loss.

"Of course he found a way to beat the system, I mean, the guy stank like yesterday's socks but he was a bona fide genius. He took me to my parents," she dropped her gaze, and her voice became dream-like.

"Man, seeing them again..Together, happy.. I could have built a Heaven all around that. I was too young to notice how much they loved each other back then, but now – they're soulmates. They got to share a Heaven, just the two of them. They even said I came to visit – well, their representation of me. Probably less mouth and more manners," she mused, a small chuckle escaping from Sam as they listened intently.

"We all spent time together, reminiscing, being a family. But then the trouble started. First we knew of it was when they came for your Mom and Dad."

Dean stood up, needing to pace the room, as if hearing about events that had taken place without being there to help was putting him on edge. He rested his knuckles on the counter top. Jo continued.

"Ash has this – he calls it Angel Radio.."

"He had that when we met him.. he can eavesdrop on them, right?" Sam interjected. Nodding, Jo went on.

"We heard the orders being given out, they were going for shared Heavens first – two-for-one deal I guess. They mentioned John and Mary Winchester, and we just about lost it. We weren't sure what they were doing, but if they were barging in to people's little slices of paradise uninvited, we didn't like where that could go. So Ash located them. They were living the apple-pie-life in a recreation of Lawrence; they had the whole town there, so they would never have seen those assholes coming," she said, her voice with a note of increasing anger.

Dean was at the fridge, pulling out a beer for each person. Although it was before noon, he received no argument from the others.

"He and my dad got them out, but the angels knew something was up. We moved around from paradise to paradise, Mine was the last one we wnet to. It's where I was before I was brought back. We'd spent time in each and tried not to leave a trail. Your Dad said it was just like life had been for him, moving you boys around, always looking over his shoulder."

Jo could see Sam's eyes beginning to well-up, she clutched his hand across the table, and the younger Winchester looked away.

"He doesn't get a break, not even now.." he said, to himself more than anyone. Jo wondered whether to continue. Dean gave her no choice.

"What happened then, how did you find out how to stop this?" he demanded.

"Ash was still listening in, and he started getting another signal.. it was stronger than the others. It eventually came through with visual, kind of like a webcam chat."

"Well, who was it?" Bobby asked, speaking for the first time since Jo had begun her story.

"God. The real one."

The old hunter peeled his cap off and sat in Dean's empty seat.

"Well, now he starts giving a crap," he replied.

Agreeing, Dean enquired: "How come he's back in the game now? We looked for him for months and he basically told us to figure it out ourselves"

"Souls. He'd offered his souls in Heaven eternal rest and now it's being threatened. He couldn't stand by any more."

"And you've seen him? God I mean?" he questioned further. She nodded in reply.

"I don't know if he's using a vessel like angels did.. but, he's kind of...cute."

"Cute? You saw the guy who is apparently the creator of the universe and you thought he was cute?" Bobby scoffed.

"I mean... he looks harmless..a little geeky actually. I remember thinking that he chose the most non-threatening visage to speak to us. So un-godlike. Although, he did have the beard."

"Okay Cher Horowitz, do you know where to find this guy?" Dean asked, amazed at her description of the most important being they were likely to meet.

"He said that when we're ready, he'd find us."

"Oh, how helpful. I see he's really turned over a new leaf on the not-standing-by front," he seethed, "Just once I'd like one of these sons-of-bitches to keep their-"

His cell interrupted the tirade, and everyone in the room turned their attention to the riff of classic rock vibrating from Dean's pocket. Slowly, he reached into his jeans and pulled out the slim device. He looked to the others and Bobby nodded urgently at the young man, ready to snatch the phone from his hand, had he delayed any further. Hands shaking, Dean raised it to his ear.

"H-hello?"

"I think it's pretty offensive that you're telling people I don't keep my promises, Dean."

Dean's eyes grew wide as he looked to his make-shift family. His breaths came out short and deep until he was finally able to blurt out:

"Chuck?"

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><p><strong>AN: You guys have NO IDEA how long I've been waiting to make this introduction. I had to be patient and I hope it was a nice surprise for any Chuck Surley enthusiasts out there!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, I agonised over how to continue this story with a jump to later in the day or to finish the scene properly. I wasn't sure if I could handle the arrival of Chuck and I started to regret bringing him in as a physical character - he's a _pretty_ important guy, after all. In the end I decided to bite the bullet and I hope I did him justice. It was hard writing him so confident when the Chuck we know was a nervous wreck most of the time! Also, now that Jo has her memory back we have a waterfall of feelings to deal with. She and Dean have some catching up to do, and I can't wait to get these two on track. I swear, sometimes I want to just bang their heads together!**

** As always, reviews are like a drug to me, and my muse is looking for her fix!**

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><p>"In the flesh," he replied, and his voice was no longer coming from Dean's handset.<p>

The hunters whirled round to find His unthreatening form leaning against the doorway, dressed in a crisp white shirt and pressed khaki pants. He had a serene smile playing over His features, and there was a wisdom in His eyes that reached much deeper than His mid-30s appearance conveyed. He looked to each of them in turn, breathing in their expressions with what could only be described as paternal pride. If John Winchester was sentimental, it's how he would have looked at his boys – how they had craved their whole lives. Like a father who adored his children for merely existing.

Jo hadn't realised, but she'd been inching towards the familiar man. She found herself just feet away from him; something about Him called to her. Her very soul yearned to be comforted by Him. Another smile then, though his eyes were weary, filled with regret.

"Joanna, I want you to know that I'm sorry," He confided, His hand resting softly on her shoulder. A crease formed between Jo's brows, she had been so mesmerised by the warm presence in this tiny kitchen that for just a moment, she was able to forget the danger beating down her door. He continued.

"It was always my plan for you to have rest. Maybe that plan changed, and you were brought to me earlier than your time, but you were supposed to get what you deserved. Your paradise was off limits to everyone, especially my soldiers.."

Jo's eyes fell to her shoes. She appreciated His sentiment, but after all that happened, it was a little redundant.

"You can be angry, and that's okay, but please know that none of this was my intention. You were supposed to stay suspended in bliss until it was time to share your heaven."

She looked up in time to catch His eyes darting from Dean's direction back to hers.

_Shared heaven? Share with who?_

"You'll find out when it's time," He concluded, as if reading her thoughts. She realised then, given who was speaking, He probably was reading them.

He smiled again, wider this time, and gave a curt nod.

_That answers that question._

He looked around the room again, four pairs of eyes locked on His face, and answered the main question burning in all their minds.

"See, this is exactly why I didn't reveal myself to you. None of you can speak to me! You guys can barely comprehend angels, and then I stroll in all 'Alpha-and-Omega, Creator-of-the-Universe-and-Time-Itself'," He joshed, "It just makes humans clam up. I swear if I ever do this again, I'm gonna leave out all the bad press about the smiting, just makes people freak out."

Still, He was met with silence.

"Dean, you even talk in your sleep, you've got to give me something here," He pleaded. The eldest Winchester stood to attention, like a soldier reporting for duty.

"I-I...I'm not sure what I have to say."

"You've said plenty before, Dean. Outside, yelling at the sky, turning the air blue, cursing your life and begging me to end things for you," came the reply. Dean feigned interest in his toes.

"It was a lot easier when you weren't standing right there."

"I'm not easily offended, Dean. I've heard a lot worse than what a whiskey-fuelled boy from Kansas can accuse me of. Man, you should have heard what Bobby's said. He'd make the demons blush," He jibed, as his attention focused on the older hunter. Now it was Bobby's turn to look sheepish.

"I'm sorry about Karen, Bobby. I truly am. But it was necessary for the work you've had to do. I hope you can understand that?"

Bobby nodded, but something told Jo that the man was too shaken up challenge Him. She became aware of how insignificant they all seemed now, now that He was here.

"Sam," he continued, "I think you've endured the greatest injustice of all. It was..._difficult._.. for me to allow one of my children to be taken from me. Lucifer always did find ways of skirting around my rules. I thought I had dealt with him accordingly," he sighed, "but you slipped through the cracks," he finished, shaking his head.

"I want you to rest assured that the wall put in place for your protection has been reinforced. Your soul will have time to heal now. It's the least I can do considering what's happened."

Sam nodded slowly, but his attention was averted by Dean's scoff from the corner of the room.

"That's more like it, Dean. The fire still rages within you. That's what's helped you endure so much," He smiled.

"Oh, well, glad I can entertain you."

"Dean...," Bobby warned, his eyes widening in an effort to caution the younger man.

"It's alright, Bobby, he owes me no apologies," He answered, waving his hand in a dismissive way. "Part of what I adore about humans is their capability for passion. Dean holds so much of that," he said, smiling now. His hands balled into fists as his rhetoric became animated. Jo was entranced.

"It's what drives him, that burning in his gut. It drives all of you. Your passion for justice for your kind is what makes you so good at what you do," He informed, the proud smile returning.

"Yeah well if you didn't keep throwing such a mountain of crap at us each day of our pathetic lives, then we could be passionate about Reality TV and baseball. But no, we have to save the world. Again," Dean spat, the tension in his voice audible."Why us, huh? Why does it have to be us?"

"Because it had to be you. Don't you see?" He said, holding his palms out and looking to each of them. "You are epitome of what it means to be human. You're flawed, and stubborn, and full of will. You persevere until you're ready to give up, and then you pick yourselves off the ground and try again. You're full of love and lust and hate and empathy for your fellow man. You break my rules and you curse my name but you always, _always_ do what's right in the end. You are_ human_, and that is exactly why you... **you** are the perfect ones to defend humanity. My one perfect creation."

The nervous silence turned into a stunned one. Jo let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and wandered to the counter to stand with Dean, attempting to absorb extraordinary situation they were in.

She saw their visitor look to them knowingly and stand up straight.

"Bobby? Sam? I think it's time I started transcribing the spells we'll need for the big kick-off," He announced, and wandered in to the study. He was flanked by the two hunters, who seemed to stumble after him in disbelief.

She felt a rough, calloused hand find it's way into hers, and it squeezed gently. Staring after the others, her features relaxed into a tiny, grateful smile. She took comfort in this small, but ultimately powerful action. She looked to him and saw his throat bob as he seemed to digest what had been said. A stray tear pooled in the corner of his eye, and he averted his gaze outside, not wanting her to see his weakness. It was then she realised that his little gesture of contact hadn't been for her benefit, but his own. Dean Winchester had finally gotten the answers that had plagued his existence. The one question he had asked rhetorically every time he was depressed or drunk or got a taste of what he could have had, was no longer hanging over him, taunting him as he crawled though his short but troubled life. The revelation had hit him like a concrete block. His chest moved wearily with relief. Jo moved her hand to thread her fingers through his, giving his palm a tight squeeze. She wanted him to know she was here, and that she understood. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing him in.

For the first time since she returned from heaven, she appreciated having another chance to be in Dean's presence. The sadness that had polluted their first and last kiss, and the foggy haze that had been her first few days back on earth hadn't allowed her to appreciate what she had been given. She could feel deep in her core that the feelings she had pushed down so long ago were beginning to break free.

What she didn't know was if Dean's feelings for_ her_ had changed. Was she still the annoying-little-sister figure he had always seen her as? There had been the kiss, but they had both known that it was brought on by extenuating circumstances. It probably wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been spilling her insides over the floor. She was pretty sure Dean hadn't lost much sleep thinking about her, other than the usual guilt over her death. Jo, on the other hand, had allowed herself to spend time with a Dean who looked, sounded and felt exactly like the one she was leaning against right now – but there had always been something missing. Any time she had let her fantasies play out in her little slice of heaven, she had to send him away before anything more than PG-13 happened. At first she thought it was because her memories of him would have been tainted, that her earthly friendship with Dean would have been cheapened because she had taken advantage of her attraction to him. But now, listening to God himself talk, she realised that the vital part that her fantasy had left out was the very essence of him. Dean Winchester had a fire in his heart, a passion that no fantasy could accurately capture. Without it, he may as well have been a lifeless mannequin – nice to look at, and in proportion, but plastic and fake through and through. Jo didn't want plastic. She wanted flesh and bone and blood and soul. Even if she knew she would never really have Dean, she wasn't going to settle for a poor substitute. She owed herself that much.


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapter is dedicated to Silverspoon, who has been so patient. Her stories are amazing so please, please check her out.**

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><p>Four days had passed since Chuck's surprise visit. The idea that the hunters had been working in close proximity with the Creator Of All for quite a while now was still proving a little too much to process. Dean had opted out of re-dubbing their friend, and insisted on referring to him as Chuck, feigning ignorance if anyone referenced Him in another way. Sam and the others indulged him, aware that they were much too busy to deal with another one of Dean's episodes of denial. They had been working on the spells He left, and were thankfully making their way though the list of ingredients with some speed. Certain items were a little harder to come by than others, and it had gone unsaid, but understood, that things had been a lot easier to get with an angel on-call whenever they needed him. Bobby had had to call in a multitude of favours to track down one of the remaining ingredients – holy oil – and had embarked on a three-day drive in order to retrieve it from a suspicious old hunter who refused to deal with anyone but Mr. Singer himself.<p>

This meant that Sam had been cooped up in Bobby's house with an increasingly awkward Dean and Jo. Since she had regained her memory, the would-be couple had reverted back to the non-relationship that had existed before Jo's death. If it had been frustrating to watch before, it was worse now. Petty arguments erupted over the tiniest of tasks, with Jo accusing Dean of sexism and Dean wondering why Jo couldn't appreciate that he was looking out for her. He had insisted she go everywhere with an escort, citing her importance in the war in heaven as being enough reason for caution. Sam had noted that that the escort on every single excursion had been Dean himself, as any time Sam had offered, he was quickly shot down. It was becoming clear that a big part of Dean's bull-headedness was simply an excuse to spend more time around Jo. It was like watching pre-teens deal with grown-up feelings.

One such argument was underway now, and Sam was attempting to read the same passage of text for the fourth time. And failing miserably. He had learned by now that the best policy was to keep out of the arguments, and allow them both to vent their frustrations on each other.

"Sam, tell her you agree with me."

"Don't bring Sam in on this, he'll just agree with you if it means you'll shut up. Sam, don't lie to keep the peace, I'm right about this, aren't I?" Jo challenged, and Sam studied both angry faces intently, unsure how to tell them that he had no idea what the argument was about. His face twisted into an expression of indecision, which prompted Jo to reinforce her argument.

"If I'm hypnotised, then I can delve down into the pits of my brain where the incantation is. It'll save time. Who knows how long it'll be before I figure it out. We can't afford to wait around."

"We got lucky the last time, Jo, and we didn't know how much weight was behind your lost memories. We can't just go poking round in your head every time you can't remember where you left your cell phone."

"This isn't trivial, Dean, and you know it. I need to do this, meditation isn't working and Chuck said I have to find the trigger on my own," she threw herself down on to the couch with a sigh. "I swear, he seriously picked the wrong time to do an exercise in human free will."

The weight of the burden on her seemed to be manifesting into a migraine, and she pressed two fingers into her temple, squeezing her eyes shut. Dean walked to the couch to face her, crouching down and placing both hands on her unclothed knees. He stared intently into her eyes.

"I know this sucks, but Jo, I'm not taking the chance that we mess something up in your head. We're not doing this and that's all I'm going to say. You'll get it when the time comes. I believe in you."

His answer only seemed to frustrate her further, and she made a grunt of anger before levering herself off the couch and storming upstairs. Dean sighed and planted himself in the spot she'd vacated.

"When's she going to get it into her head, Sammy? She's not invincible. I'm sick of having to piss her off every few hours because she wants to do something suicidal." Sam's soft chuckle caused the older brother to cast a curious glance in his direction.

"What's so funny?" Sam's expression changed into one of innocence. "Hey, nothing... well.."

"Well what, Sam? Seems like you've got something you wanna share so let me in on the joke, huh?"

"It's just... Dean the other day you insisted on going to the store with her while she bought shampoo. Don't you think you're being a little over-protective?"

"So what, you think we should hypnotise her again? She could come out of it worse than she is now, she might remember something worse and end up a babbling mess. I think I'm being pretty reasonable."

"No, not at all. I think you're right about the hypnosis, I just think you could be a little more honest with yourself about your motivations is all."

"My motivations?" Dean looked puzzled, but the bob in his throat told that he had a secret that he was afraid Sam had figured out.

"I know it, Bobby knows it. Even you know it, but you're too scared to admit why you've turned into Jo's personal bodyguard."

The older brother refused eye-contact with his sibling, eventually moving to scrub a hand down his face in half-embarrassment, half-confusion.

"You're full of crap, Sam," came the irritated reply.

"Whatever you say, man," Sam answered, amusement shrouding his tone."I just think you should let Jo know that the reason you're riding her so hard isn't because you're a sexist jerk."

"It's pointless, Sam," he said, sighing. "Yeah, I though she was cute when I met her, but she's a friend now, and I'm firmly in the friend-zone," he lamented.

"You're even worse at this than I thought, Dean," Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

"How so?" was the aggravated response; the older brother not happy about his younger sibling having the jump on him, especially when it came to women.

"You and Jo are friends, yeah, but even her Mom knew she always wanted something more. She's been sweet on you for years, man. I can't believe you've never seen it," Sam answered with a note of disbelief. "Even Meg knew, why else would she have used Jo as bait back in Duluth?"

Dean seemed to ponder this for a moment, his front teeth making an appearance to nibble the side of his bottom lip. "That was a long time ago, Sammy. Then she went and became this kick-ass hunter chick and realised I wasn't all that. She turned me down the last time I made a move on her. It was our last chance, too."

"She didn't know she was going to die, Dean. She was probably just... I don't know... enjoying the fact that she had the upper hand then."

The older brother frowned, taking in the new perspective on his perspective relationship.

"So what am I supposed to do? Go up there and tell her how I feel? You know I don't do that, _feelings_ are your department."

"Just be straight with her, Dean. She's probably the only girl you've ever liked that you can do that with. For a start, she knows your name and your story, she's not walking around referring to you as John Bonham or James Hetfield."

Dean smirked at their shared joke, looking towards the stairs where the subject of their conversation had stormed off moments before. Sam continued his argument.

"She's been in The Life; She gets your motivations; She knows what to expect from a hunter because she_ is_ one. She's not going to bitch at you for doing what you need to because she knows it's part of the job," he went on. "She gets you, man."

Dean took a deep breath and downed the rest of his now-warm beer, and Sam watched him curiously as his brother cleared his throat and stood up, smoothing down his clothes on an attempt to inspire confidence in his appearance. It was a rare thing to see Dean vulnerable, but Sam knew that what his brother was about to do scared him more than any demon, angel or ghost they'd gone up against.

Cautiously, he closed the distance to the foot of the stairs, taking one last look at his brother for courage, he began his ascent.

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><p>"I'm not a freakin' china doll. Anyone would think this was my first time out. Ridiculous!" Jo was muttering under her breath, re-arranging what little possessions she had in her room in an attempt to keep her hands busy.<p>

She was livid with Dean and his alpha-male attitude, all it served to do was remind her of her days back in the Roadhouse, and her mother's smothering ways. She hadn't stood for it then, from her own family, and she wasn't going to stand for it now, not from a guy who just assumed that because she was a girl, she was ill-equipped to deal with problems that presented themselves. It was obvious Dean still saw her as the confused little girl who needed protecting, and if Jo was being honest with herself, what hit harder was that his view of her hadn't changed. Even after becoming a great hunter, and proving to anyone who encountered her that she could handle The Life and take care of herself, one of the most important people she was hoping to change the opinion of was still holding steadfastly to his first impression. The old stereo in her room was playing some angry 1990s chick-rock tune, and she couldn't help but think it was somehow reading her mood.

It wasn't that she had started hunting to impress Dean – she was much too strong a person to let her self-confidence hinge on whether a handsome guy with intense green eyes and the right amount of stubble thought she was up to the job – but after their first hunt together, she wanted him to admit that she could be every bit as good as he and Sam were. Their repeated arguments over the last few days were evidence that nothing had changed, and she wasn't sure if she was more angry at Dean for treating her like she was breakable or herself for assuming he wouldn't.

"A little faith, that's all I want. I'm not a freakin' child. GOD," She was still brooding when a hesitant knock came to her door. Assuming it was Sam attempting to keep peace in the house, she called out.

"You're wasting your time, Sam, until that brother of yours starts respecting me as a hunter he can stew for all I care," she said, but stopped in her tracks when a sheepish-looking Dean was standing in her doorway, rubbing the back of his head as a nervous reaction.

"Unless you've come to apologise, I don't wanna hear it," she bit out, resuming her pointless tidying of the now pristine bedroom.

"I- uh... I'm sorry, Jo," he muttered, looking everywhere in the room but her."Can I uh.. explain maybe?"

This was the opposite of what she'd been expecting. Something about the pathetic look on his face softened her anger, and piqued her curiosity. She sat on the end of the bed and looked at him expectantly. Not wanting to give in too much, she crossed her arms.

"Fine, but if it's to tell me that my Mom was right, you can turn right around," she answered, looking back towards the window and away from him. She felt the bed dip beside her and was surprised when for the second time in a week, she felt his rough hands envelop her own. Her gaze darted back to their hands on her lap and looked back at his face. He let out a ragged breath, and she realised his palms were sweating and he was shaking. Something was very different here.

"Dean? You're shaking.. did something happen? Did Bobby call?" her mind flooded with an infinite combination of reasons he could be so worked up, and she searched his face for an answer.

"No, Bobby – everyone's fine, I just uh.. I needed to tell you something. It's important."

"You're this nervous because you have to tell me something? It can't be good if you've gotten into such a mess over it.. what's wrong, Dean?"

He gulped in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, and she braced herself for what could be coming next.

"I have.. I mean, I like... I mean, ugh" he cringed, and she realised for the first time that Dean was attempting to have a deep conversation with her. Her heart started beating faster in her chest. Not wishing to make anything easier for him, she stayed silent and waited for him to finish.

"I care about you, Jo. A lot," he said simply. Her heart faltered a little, and she guessed she was getting the friend speech. She knew he cared about her. That's what had been the subject over numerous arguments since she got her memory back. She couldn't believe she got her h9opes up again for this guy. What was it about him?

"I know you do, Dean, but I told you before, I don't need to be protected and-.

"What if I want to? Protect you I mean," he cut in. His eyes seemed to be more intense than usual, and she felt familiar butterflies bubbling lightly in her stomach.

"I care about you more than you think. When I think about losing you, it..it's.. and not before I've even had a chance to tell you..." he let out another ragged breath, the thought of losing her seemed to shake him to the very core. He steadied himself and attempted an explanation once again.

"When I look at you, I see possibilities. Something I never thought I'd have as a hunter. We could have a life... I mean, if you wanted to. This is assuming that you even wanted..." he cringed again, seemingly berating himself for making assumptions about her feelings.

"I do want...," she said simply, not believing after all this time tiptoeing around the subject that she could finally say it aloud. His eyes darted to hers, filled with hope and he seemed to lose his breath.

"You do? But after last time, I mean last time we were here together, I thought you'd realised you could do much better than-"

"That wasn't it... I thought you were just looking for some company for the night... giving me the speech and ready to take it back in the morning."

"No... I would never... well I have done that plenty of times.. working jobs, shipping out in the morning, but not to you, Jo.. I wouldn't do that to you." His words were a promise, and Jo's head swam, not wanting to believe that what she'd fantasised about may be coming true. Things like this didn't happen in real life, and not to hunters. Not to her.

The stereo had changed mood again, this time playing a heartfelt arrangement that surrounded them as they talked.

_It's you, it's you, it's all for you, everything I do._

_Tell you all the time, Heaven is a place on earth with you ,_

_Tell me all the things you wanna do._

_I heard that you like the bad girls _

_Honey, is that true? _

"So you.. have feelings for me?"

He nodded, watching the words form on her lips, a longing in his eyes she'd never witnessed before.

"I didn't think you saw me that way, any more I mean...So I wasn't going to say anything.. but then you were mad at me and I didn't want you thinking I was... I wanted you know why I've been.. God, I'm so bad at this," he dipped his head away from her gaze, and her heart swelled at his display of vulnerability. Something inside her wanted to give him his confidence back, but she wasn't sure how to convince him.

She let go of his hands and raised a shaking palm to his cheek. His eyes darted back to hers at the contact, and his gaze bore into her, searching for something in her face that told him he wasn't making a fool of himself. She closed the distance between them, and her lips brushed his gently. He sucked in a ragged breath and pulled her face closer to him, deepening the kiss, pouring all of the feelings and words he struggled to find into the gesture. Jo's heart quickened as their hands explored other, their mouths revelling in the taste of the other person, so familiar but new on so many levels. They lost themselves in the kiss, only pulling away half-heartedly to draw in an urgent breath. He rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes, reliving the moment in his mind's eye.

"Wow."

"Yeah," she finally managed.

_It's better than I ever even knew,_

_They say that the world was built for two._

_Only worth living if somebody is loving you._

_Baby, now you do._

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><p><em><strong>AN -Hey guys, I decided I waited long enough to write this chapter, so when inspiration struck I had to get it out, and it was the right point in the story to go there. The chapter's a bit longer than usual because I felt I couldn't cut it in half, and you guys had done enough waiting. Writing Dean as shy and vulnerable was so much fun, I just want to hug the poor baby now. ;)**_

_** Oh and the song I used was Lana Del Rey's Video Games. I had it in my head while writing and the chorus in particular seemed appropriate. As always, thanks SO much to my reviewers, without you this would have died at Chapter One. Thanks for staying with me and to all the lurkers, please, PLEASE submit some feedback, even if it's a criticism. It's just nice to know this is getting read. **_


	13. Chapter 13

Sam Winchester was pretty sure he was going to need glasses. The last few days' relentless research was taking its toll on him, and was manifesting itself in a deep and throbbing pain over his forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs. The worn carpet was beginning to swim under his feet, and the thought of coffee was the only thing propelling him further. Reaching the small kitchen, the welcoming aroma greeted his senses, and he internally thanked Jo for being an early riser - even earlier than himself.

"I gotta tell you, you read my mind this morning. My brain is fried," he announced, turning in the direction of the fridge.

What greeted him though, was not the image of the petite blonde rummaging around the kitchen. No, this would have been a much more welcome sight than what he witnessed – his brother's bottom, clad only in a pair of grey boxer shorts, was poking out of the refrigerator. Its owner seemed to be single-handedly emptying the contents in the quest for breakfast.

"Mo-nung, Fammy! Flept a lil' la'e , huh?" Dean greeted, straightening up. His words were muffled by the toast crumbs that were flying out of his mouth with each syllable.

"Uh, yeah, I fell asleep reading, it was starting to get a little bright out by then. You and Jo made up?" Sam asked, taking a seat at the small table with his newly-poured cup of coffee. He couldn't help but notice the smile that erupted over his brother's face at the mention of her name.

"Sure did," he nodded. "Hey, did you know that Jo's Dad had a '68 Camaro? She used to ride around in it in her baby seat," he asked, excitedly.

"No, I didn't."

"Or that she hustled her first game of pool at age 9? That's even younger than me, man!" he continued. He was moving around the room, slamming doors and heaving a frying pan with – what looked like – pancakes, off the stove. But Dean didn't know how to make pancakes, right?

"Sounds like you guys really got to know each other last night," Sam mused, a smirk playing on his lips that his brother didn't miss. It wasn't often that a girl truly impressed Dean, and it seemed like Jo had him reverting back to his high-school self.

"Hey man, don't do that," Dean admonished, pointing a finger in his sibling's face.

"Do what?"

"You're making it dirty. Don't make it dirty."

"I wasn't making it dirty.." Sam defended, his hands held up in front of him in mock submission.

"It wasn't dirty.. we didn't.. You know what? It's none of your business," he replied curtly, but his admission was picked up quickly by Sam, who raised his eyebrows.

"Wow," he said simply, shaking the morning paper out and pretending to read it with new-found concentration. Although he tried, Dean couldn't help but ask the question.

"What do you mean, 'wow'? What's 'wow'?"

"What? Oh.. nothing. It's just... nevermind," Sam replied, turning the page and straightening out an article on fluctuations in weather patterns. In a swift movement, Dean karate-chopped the paper, ripping it in half.

"Dude!"

"What were you gonna say?"

"Nothing!"

"You were gonna say something, now spill it, Sam," was the surly demand. Sam held back a laugh at how easily worked up his brother was getting.

"I was just thinking that.. she must be pretty special if you didn't...'go for gold' the first night. Not like you, Dean. Bravo," he acquiesced, seeing Dean's features relax at his answer. "Unless.."

"Unless, what? There's no 'unless'! Why did you say unless?"

"No, it's just.. unless you choked." He could practically see the steam coming out of his brother's ears.

"I.. did not... choke," he said, smacking the top of Sam's head with a spatula to punctuate each point.

"Of course you didn't," Sam gibed, sarcastically, batting away the onslaught of utensil abuse. He really was enjoying having this leverage over his uncharacteristically nervous brother.

"It- it just wasn't right last night is all," Dean replied, any air of bravado in his tone deflated by the sheer vulnerability in his voice. Sam paused the coffee cup he was drawing to his lips in mid-air.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I didn't wanna go straight for it in case she thought I was just telling a good story to get in her pants," he began, taking the opposite seat at the table. His voice lowered to the point of a whisper. "So we talked – a lot. We talked so much and I told her stuff that only _you_ know. I told her about Hell and about Lisa and Ben and girls and all the crap we've gone through. And she told me about dying and being in heaven.. and everything before, and I realised that the two of us have wanted this for so long, and now this girl knows all my dirty little secrets and well.. what if I don't.. you know.."

"You don't...what?"

"Live up to expectations," he replied, tapping the spatula across his knuckles. Sam literally guffawed in his face.

"You... YOU are nervous about sleeping with someone?" saying it out loud made it sound all the more absurd.

"Could you keep your voice down? Jo's probably awake by now," he hissed. "That's not exactly what I meant anyway."

"Oh my God, Dean, I know you're not one for verbalising your feelings, but I can't help you if you aren't more clear.."

"It's just that... yeah I could sleep with her and yeah.. maybe it'd be mind-blowing..." he trailed off, and it wasn't until Sam kicked him under the table that the faraway look was shaken from his expression. "But.. I mean... what happens then? She knows everything and maybe she'll want more but maybe I don't have anything else to give. What if I don't live up to what she wants and it ruins everything."

Sam simply chuckled as he took another sip of his coffee, looking at his brother's genuine concern with fondness. He cleared his throat then, and could see Dean's ears practically prick up for what his answer would be.

"Dean, man, welcome to intimacy."

* * *

><p>Gripping at the bed covers, Jo shuddered at the lack of warmth on her back. It was then she realised that she was no longer being shielded from the draught coming from the hallway by the six foot Winchester she'd fallen asleep beside. She sat up in bed and took in her surroundings. The morning sun bathed the room in a warm glow, making it take on a comforting, homely appearance. It wasn't the only thing she was seeing in a new light either. Of all the crazy crap she'd been through, 'sharing' with Dean had been the most surreal experience of her life. He'd opened up to her in a way she hadn't thought he could. Although he had been somewhat of an enigma, she'd believed that his mystery was part of his charm. For her, his name had become a caricature rather than a flesh and blood person – he was the embodiment of a fantasy. Now, Jo was surprised to realise that, after peeling back the layers and taking a good hard look at who Dean Winchester was, at his very core, she <em>really<em> liked what she'd found.

Dean was 90% bravado. That person who had walked into the roadhouse and sized her up with a glance? He was a creation; made by a guarded, sensitive guy who cared about nothing more than the protection of those he loved. He'd told her about past relationships, and heard his take on why they didn't work out. To her surprise, in each case Dean seemed to give more credit to his exes and blamed his own shortcomings on why things went wrong. He'd asked her questions – genuine questions about her life, her loves, her opinions and hopes.

He was a fantastic listener, becoming animated when she'd talked about her mom's controlling ways. Turns out Ellen Harvelle and John Winchester had come from the same school of parenting, although they differed in their approaches to raising Hunters. She'd listened to him talk about Sam, and felt his raw pain at the memory of losing him and having to reinstate his soul without being sure of the consequences. She'd seen the devastation in his eyes when he talked about Castiel – he was still in the early stages of grief over the loss of his best friend. Jo had seen the real Dean, and he wasn't exactly who she'd expected. Despite this, he still had the ability to make her swoon like a teenager and feel like the luckiest girl in school for having him flirt with her. How could someone be such a contradiction?

She lounged in the bed, cracking her joints and wiggling her toes to expel the last remnants of sleep from her body. Smelling coffee wafting up the stairs, she decided to investigate what had Sam laughing so heartily first thing in the morning. As she threw her legs over the side, she felt a gentle caress on her shoulder.

"How did you get upstairs without me hearing you? My game muse be o-," she stopped short when she looked up. The eyes staring back at her weren't the green ones she'd been expecting.

This barely had time to register when the room began to spin. There was a sudden rush of air by her ears. Lights blurred past her vision and her stomach lurched as if she was falling a great height...but she wasn't aware of her body moving. So she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping this attack of..vertigo? Whatever it was, would be over. She felt a thump as the bed she had been sitting on was pulled out from under her, and she was sitting on the ground.

Cautiously, her eyelids fluttered open again, and the bedroom was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Guys, I'm not 100% happy with this but felt I needed to dive back in before I lost this story. I still really want to finish but my muse isn't helping much.<strong>

**Please review if you read it, they really do mean a lot to me, I'm going to start replying to reviews now too for the first time. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**I know, it's been forever since I updated last, feel free to complain all you like, but the reason for my absence was pretty simple - _Defending Your Life_ really killed the Dean/Jo ship for me. I kind of lost faith in the pairing since any romantic feeling between our favourite couple was made out to be imagined - something I do not think jo deserved, but whatever, I don't write the show. Recently I read a wonderful reimagining (if it can be called that, since it was written before the episode aired) of the plot of that particular episode by the ever wonderful Silverspoon and WelshWitch. I think that, along with reading a tonne of unfinished fics and feeling the frustration of the reader when the story just cuts out inspired me to re-visit my little fic. I hope this chapter is worth it, and I promise not to have you guys waiting so long again. I also appreciate the new reviewers I gained during the hiatus - thank you so much for taking the time to read and review! I've included a small recap so you guys don't have to skim through previous chapters.**

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><p>RECAP:Jo Harvelle wakes up in Carthage, the city where she met her death, alone and confused. She has lost her memories and it is only when coming into contact with Bobby Singer and the Winchester brothers that she begins to have flashbacks of her time in Heaven. It is established through hypnosis that while in the afterlife, she was contacted by deceased hunter, John Winchester, who gave her an important message to give to his sons. Shortly after regaining her memories, she informs her colleagues of the plight of Heaven's souls - The former angel, Castiel, drunk on power, has turned his attention on the souls of Heaven, consuming them to feed his new strength. as he did to those in Purgatory. Jo, assisted by family and friends, is imprinted with the key to a spell which will take down Heaven's new ruler and re-establish the souls to their rightful place. Jo, Dean, Sam and Bobby, are then visited by Heaven's former lord, in the guise of Chuck Surley, who is eager for their help in reclaiming his throne and saving those who are denied their eternal rest. He is vague and enigmatic which frustrates the hunters, but having a lead on the case spurs them into action. Dean and Jo come to blows during their time cooped up in Sioux Falls, rehashing old arguments over his protective nature and her stubborn personality. They eventually share a tender kiss, followed by an honest and over-due heart-to-heart. The next morning, as a contented Dean prepares breakfast for her downstairs, Jo is snatched from her bed without a trace..<p>

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><p>It sounded like the flapping of birds wings. That's what he thought at first as it slowly came into focus, but his sleep-addled brain corrected the view to that of a white lace curtain gently dancing in the warm summer breeze that floated through the open window. Distantly, he heard the swell of the vast ocean breaking the shore, and was sure he could make out the scent of sea salt on the air. The sun broke from behind a cloud, and he buried his face into the silky blonde waves of the precious creature in his arms, hoping to squeeze the last few minutes of sleep out of his lazy morning. He moved to inhale her distinct scent, registering that the trademark note of vanilla from her shampoo was conspicuously absent. She smelled like <em>him<em>, and the thought caused a satisfied smirk to play on the corner of his lips.

_Guess she can't smell girly all the time if she insists on hunting with me._

He smoothed her hair back from her delicate neck, before he trailed two fingers from her shoulder down the arm of her exposed side, coming to rest on her hand which instinctively laced with his. He inspected it, marvelling at how small and dainty it looked in his own, despite both their fingernails having the similar short, bitten appearance. Hunters couldn't afford to keep them longer than that anyway, as they were usually scrubbing grave dirt or rock salt out from under them, but then again, Jo never did seem the type for manicures. She sighed in her sleep, shoulder rising with the effort, and he couldn't help but think how content she sounded, laying in his embrace, like she belonged there. He pressed a sweet kiss into the juncture between her neck and he collar bone, and the answering sounds he got only spurred on his actions. Letting go of her hand, he walked his index and middle finger further in front of her, across her toned abdomen where he lingered at the lace waistband of her baby-blue panties, tracing small circles there, awaiting her response.

"You gonna make a move, Winchester, or do I gotta give you instructions?" she taunted, her voice thick with mirth and sleep. He chuckled breathily at her ability for sarcasm mere seconds after waking.

"Just thought I'd try my luck, there's always a chance you'll think I'm something else and I'll be on my ass before you can say 'wakey wakey,'" he countered, sliding his hand further up her torso and skimming the thin material on the underside of her breast.

"Guess it's your lucky day, huh?" she replied, turning in the crisp bed sheets to face him.

As he leaned in to silence her smart mouth with his own, the angle of the sun through the window changed, casting a blinding light in his eyes. He recoiled at the intrusion, trying once again to continue his blissful morning, but the light was relentless. Jo's breath suddenly became panicked, and she clutched at his bicep with more force than she should have been able to.

"They found me, Dean, it's them...We weren't careful enough...Dean.. Dean!"

"Dean! Wake the hell up, man, you're dreaming!"

His eyes shot open only for him to squeeze them closed again from the glare of oncoming headlights. Sam's hand was curled round his upper arm, and his younger brother was shaking him almost violently in an effort to get a response. Dean leaned forward and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, willing the last images of his dream – Jo's terrified expression – to disappear. It was then he realised that none of it was real. The sun had been headlights on the highway that Sam was now hurtling down in a vague north direction, the breeze, the Impala's central heating, the sea salt on the air – protective rock salt. He took a deep breath, wishing his brain would occupy him with something, anything but his dream almost-lover who had visited him every night since her disappearance over two weeks ago.

In the months following his stint in hell, Dean Winchester had experienced nightmares which would make the most hardened demons' toes curl. With around forty years' worth of material, each night was an exercise in the sick and twisted memories his brain managed to piece together with the sole purpose of clawing at what was left of his sanity. He'd been toyed with in every way imaginable – the physical torture had been relentless without the reprieve of a certain death; They would always stick him back together again. The mental torture was worse. Hallucinations straight out of the goriest horror movies, starring everyone he held dear were only made worse when his sadistic captors would reach into his battered psyche and pluck out his most cherished memories, perverting them in the most vile ways in an effort to break down the already cracked pieces of his spirit. Dean would take a hell-dream over this torture any night.

She was gone. Taken right out from under his watch without a sound. That morning, though it began with so much promise, had been the start of the nightmare he now found himself in.

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><p><em>*FLASHBACK*<em>

_He balanced two coffee mugs on the faded and worn tray, rearranging the weight so it was distributed evenly. He did have a pretty large flight of stairs to climb, and he'd be damned if he lost Jo's breakfast half way up. Ignoring Sam's amused stare over the top of the now tattered newspaper, he grabbed silverware out of Bobby's top drawer and slotted it in beside the plate of stacked pancakes, pausing once again to make sure he had everything he needed. A satisfied smile ghosted over his lips, and he picked up the tray, walking determinedly towards the hallway, still clad in just his boxers. He slowly ascended the staircase, stalking almost soundlessly, the way he had been taught so many years ago. Who knew his extra skills could come in handy elsewhere? But he wasn't hoping to catch some vile creature off guard this time, in the hopes of ridding the world of its existence. No, this time he wanted to surprise the girl he'd finally admitted to falling for, who he'd shared the most exhilarating night of his life with by just_ talking _to, the girl he'd left sleeping in the room at the end of the hall, curled up in the remnants of his warmth on the sheets._

_The door was still ajar as he'd left it, and he wondered briefly if his and Sam's heated conversation in the kitchen had been overheard, but he couldn't make out any signs of movement from inside the room. So Jo was a heavy sleeper. Something _else_ new he'd learned about her in the past twelve hours. He nudged the door open more with his elbow, allowing himself more room to manoeuvre the tray through, and looked towards the bed. He felt a slight twinge of disappointment when he couldn't see her small form still curled up in the sheets, and assumed she'd woken already and had gone to take a shower. He set the tray down on the bed and left the room once again to seek out the bathroom. Listening at the door for sounds of running water, he could hear none, and his brow scrunched in confusion. _

"_Jo?" he asked, knocking lightly on the wood panel, but the door just creaked open. There was no-one inside. His heart started to beat slightly faster as he wondered where she had gone. Had she left? Maybe last night had been a little too much for her in the cold light of day. No, she would have had to pass the kitchen on her way out, and she couldn't have slipped past him _and_ Sammy. He turned his attention away from the empty bathroom and continued down the hall, looking in the open rooms as he passed._

"_Jo? You up here? You ruined my surprise, you know. Guess that's the last time I make you breakfast in bed," he quipped, feeling none of the light-heartedness his voice portrayed. Something was very wrong here. He turned round slowly in the middle of the hall, when something caught his attention in Jo's room. _

"_Jo! You in there?" he called, racing towards the still empty room. He crossed the threshold and whipped round in circles, trying to find the source of the blurred shadow that had walked across his vision. From behind him, a low, menacing growl rumbled, freezing the very blood in his veins. Just like that, it was gone, leaving him uncertain he'd even heard it. A vile smell reached his nose, and he all but gagged as he stumbled to sit on the bed, knocking the tray of forgotten breakfast onto the floor on the other side.. He had never smelled sulphur this strong before._

_Sam, hearing the crash, launched himself into the room in a panic, wielding a rifle._

"_Dean? What's going on? Where's Jo?" he questioned, taking in the devastated look on his brother's face. Just then, his attention was called to the small window at the far side of the room. There was a thin pile of mortar on the floor underneath the ledge, and the window was ajar. Walking towards it, he could see a twisted pole of iron – Bobby's built-in protection – ripped out of the frame and bent upwards, breaking the barrier against demonic entities. As he made his way across the floor, the stench of sulphur hit him like a ton of foul-smelling bricks. He spluttered and threw his hand over his nose in protest._

"_Su-sulphur?" he coughed at his catatonic brother. Dean didn't move, staring off into the middle distance._

"_They got her, Sammy."_

* * *

><p>They had spent the last two weeks seeking out demons anywhere they could for information. Dean was frantic, and willing to utilise his torture skills if necessary – and even if it wasn't. The trouble was, they had yet to find any. As it had been before Jo's resurrection, the demon world was eerily quiet. There was next to nothing to indicate their presence. The only hell-spawn they'd found had been six days ago, summoning a crossroads demon. They had stood in the dark for close to three hours before she appeared, and she had blinked out of sight again before the brothers even got close enough to question her. Each weather pattern they inspected turned out to be completely natural, and the news was devoid of cattle mutilations or freak accidents. The demonic underbelly was on high alert, and were taking no chances in regard to revealing their motives. For the first time in the Winchesters' lives, they couldn't find a case. Other hunters were of no help either – using the lull in activity as a much-needed break, or they had been unwelcoming towards those they still blamed for the near-Apocalypse. After the chaos of the last few years, there simply weren't many hunters left.<p>

Bobby continued to work on Jo's spell, preparing for the best case scenario, and wanting to be ready when the time came to end this war. Each call Sam received from him seemed to be less promising than the last, and the brothers had no choice but to hope Chuck would make contact – they weren't sure their prayers would reach the correct divine being.

Checking the time on his cell, Dean sighed. It had just passed midnight, marking the seventeenth day since Jo's disappearance. Sensing Sam's questioning glance out of the corner of his vision, Dean adjusted the volume on the stereo higher, as a signal of his reluctance to talk. Not taking no for an answer, Sam turned the dial back down.

"Maybe if you go through it again, we might have missed something," the younger brother attempted. Dean groaned his annoyance while scrubbing his palm over his weary eyes.

"It's not gonna make any difference Sammy, we just have to keep looking."

"Where, Dean? It's been two weeks, have we ever gone that long without a case when we were actively searching for one?"

"I'll find one!" Dean snapped, the stress of the situation and lack of sleep finally fraying his last nerve. He had replayed that morning over and over in his head, looking for any sign before or after the incident which could have indicated who had snatched Jo. The result was always the same.

"The shadow you saw, what was it shaped like?"

"I don't know, it was a blob, a blur across the floor."

"So it didn't look human?"

"It was a split second, Sam, I was too busy running towards it to stop and draw a picture," Dean retorted.

"But if you had to say, would it look more Shadow-man or demon smoke?"

Dean sighed, exasperated at this latest line of questioning.

"It wasn't either, it was barely solid, kind of like hot air coming off the road when it's really hot."

"You mean it was transparent?"

"I guess.. it was more like a-"

And then it clicked. The shape was low to the ground, like a creature on all fours. The abundance of sulphur, indicating the extra power needed to transport a corporeal form rather than a soul...

"The growl.." Dean whispered

"You heard a growl? You never said that before. You mean like a -"

"Hellhound."

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the Impala's interior, and the silence was only interrupted by the static from the forgotten radio.

"Dean, if a Hellhound got Jo, that means she's not on earth any more. You know where she's gone." Sam felt the familiar ache behind his eyes every time he thought about Hell. He just hoped Chuck had been sincere about reinforcing his protective wall. "You know better than anyone."

Dean was still silent in the passenger seat, coming to terms with his latest revelation. He felt a dark dread crawl into his chest and settle where his heart had been. It constricted his lungs with a sickening delight, and he wheezed with the effort of breathing. Unlike Sam, Dean remembered Hell. The very thought that Jo could be there made his stomach lurch, and he gestured for Sam to pull over. The car skidded to a halt on the side of the darkened road and Dean tumbled from the doorway on to his knees, expelling the half a hamburger he'd forced down in the last diner before giving up on food. He sat back on the ground and leaned against the side of the Impala, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand.

_No._

He refused to believe that all hope was to be abandoned. They would get her back. He was _not_ losing her again.

That last thought sparked a vague memory in him, something he'd read over the last few years of research and tireless, mind-numbing library time he'd been guilted into. It was a phrase, no, a verse that seemed to be nudging him, refusing to let his attention wander. Hope. Abandon.

_Yes._

"Sam! Turn the car around, we have to go back!"

"What? Why? Dean, she's not there. We need to keep-"

"We're headed the wrong way, come on!"

Once Dean's door had slammed shut, Sam gunned the engine, peeling the car out into a swift u-turn. The road was too quiet for it to disturb any oncoming traffic. Sam alternated his glare between the deserted road and his now animated brother.

"Where are we going, Dean?"

"South."

"South?"

"We have to go home, Sam. We're going to Lawrence."

_Through me you go to the grief wracked city; _

_Through me you go to everlasting pain; _

_Through me you go a pass among lost souls. _

_Justice inspired my exalted Creator: _

_I am a creature of the Holiest Power, of Wisdom in the Highest and of Primal Love. _

_Nothing till I was made was made, only eternal beings. And I endure eternally._

_**Abandon all hope — Ye Who Enter Here .**_


End file.
